


Good Boy

by Aicosu



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Veterinarians, BB-8 the corgi, Character Study, F/M, Romantic Comedy, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:27:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22691752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aicosu/pseuds/Aicosu
Summary: Rey takes her dog to a nearby veterinary clinic for an emergency and doesn't expect to meet Ben (or anyone) while there.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 11
Kudos: 41
Collections: For one is both and both are one in love: The Reylo Fanfiction Anthology's Valentine's Day Exchange





	Good Boy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dankobah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dankobah/gifts).



It’s not the first time he breaks into the place but he’s hoping it’s the fucking last. 

He parks at the front this time, slamming his car door and raising both hands to flip middle fingers at the security camera as he approaches the door. No use hiding.  
  
The top deadbolt already has silver nicks from his previous visits and he laughs a dead, frowning laugh at the sight before flicking out a pocket knife to shove past the lock. The actual key is easier; it’s fucking broken. It has been for months.

Something else he’d complained (and been ignored) about. 

I mean, he'd been the one to break it, yeah, but still. _Still._

He busts open and hurries to the alarm system, entering the keycode quickly. 

He’d resolved to do this, but he was still uneasy. An anxious pace had taken over the blood in his veins. It made him shiver at the beeping alarm. Made his stomach sink a little. He shrugged it and his backpack off, staying resolute.

There wasn’t really going back anyway. Not from getting fired. Quitting. _He’d_ quit, _he_ had.   
  
Either way, he couldn’t stay long. 

Maybe that’s why he didn’t notice it at first. 

The mud. The scattered cotton swabs and canisters. The angry chirping from woken up birds. 

That last one he had noticed, he always had, but he’d assumed it was the alarm. They didn’t like the shrill of the alarm and he didn’t blame them. They were also prissy and temperamental but what birds weren’t.   
  
The rest, well—he’d gone straight to the office, not to the exam rooms. He’d picked out his last paychecks and then some. His stationary too. He’d be damned if they kept his pens. 

And then, then, he’d gone for the drugs in the back.   
  
Not a lot, but some, cause—well it didn’t matter why because as soon as he’d flicked on the lights and crossed the tiles to the shelves of prescriptions, he’d kicked a jar of dog treats into the wall and nearly slipped.   
  
“Fu-f—” he caught himself on the patient table, eyes flickering wildly for his balance and for some sense. Milkbones? What the hell had they been doing on the ground? They’re usually by the sink.   
  
And that’s when he noticed the mud. Dirt. Oil? Filth. Just—mud patterned out in dog paws and shoe marks all across the pristine white linoleum.   
  
And the wall. 

And up, cresting along the edges of the high window.   
  
Which was open.  
  
“The...fuck?” He said to no one. 

The birds squealed. Whined. 

Whined?  
  
He turned slowly to look over the empty exam room.  
  
“Yeah—okay—who got out?” He said, loud. Angry.  
  
He began looking around for the dog noise.  
  
His dad really couldn’t hold the fort down without him. Not for a fucking day.   
  
It wasn’t Chewie—his paws were massive. And he knew better. And it couldn’t have been the cats or the rabbits. So there were only about 5 other dogs. But most were in the long-term pens in the other room. And he was pretty sure none of them were trained enough, or desperate enough, to break in through a window. Or tall enough, honestly.   
  
“Artoo if you jumped—” He started, circling the counter and ducking to look behind the chairs along the wall and kick the trash can aside. Artoo was the only one he could think of that would have the attitude too— “What the fuck!!”   
  
“AH! WAIT! Wai—”   
  
“Holy shit?! What the fuck?!” 

It was a person. And a dog. A girl—a girl and a dog crouching low behind the rolling cabinet and the x-ray panel.   
  
“You have got to be kidding me!” His knife was back in his hand and he started to point at her.   
  
She slid up the wall, one hand lifting to waving in the air, the other dangling the dog in her arms.   
  
“No, wait! I don’t have any money!” She hurried.   
  
“Money!?” He yelled, shaking his head. “The fuck would I want—”   
  
“If there’s money I bet it’s in the reception desk at the front! Take that!”   
  
His knife lowered as confusion and annoyance relaced his fear and surprise at an alarming rate.   
  
“Or the drugs! I’m not—I don’t need them!”   
  
“Wait a second, wait a second—do you—do you think _I’m_ robbing you?”   
  
“I told you—” The dog in her arms, a corgi, sunk low til his hind legs kicked in the air. She took a second to hastily pull him up in her chest like a baby. “I don’t have any money.”   
  
“I _work_ here.” He emphasized. Then cringed. “ _Worked_ —I worked here—”   
  
“But—you broke in!”   
  
“You watched me break-in after _breaking in yourself_ and you’ re—you’re arguing with me about it?”   
  
She went quiet, wide dark eyes staring at him like someone staring at a hound in an alley. Or maybe more like how the hound itself looks at animal control. She seemed the stray in this situation.

“Shit.” He cursed, turning from her to toss the knife to the counter and rub his palms into his eyes. “I don’t need this right now.”  
  
“Don’t call the police.”

He nearly laughed. Sorta did. Just barked a hollow noise before gesturing at nothing and leaning back against the counter before finally looking at her again. He wasn’t sure how she’d scared the daylights out of him; she was tiny. Petite. Maybe it was the feral look in her eyes. 

“Do I look like I want to do that?”  
  
Her dog whined again, but she said nothing. And she didn’t blink. 

They stared each other down for a bit and he really did consider calling the police, or his dad, maybe—but that went out the window the longer he looked at her.   
  
She was younger than him. Maybe. College. Something. But also not trouble. Not really. Just deperate. Innocent but desperate.   
  
The stubby, orange and white dog with a collar featuring little cartoon soccer balls, helped her image immensely. 

“You’re not a junkie.”

Her face scrunched. Nose crinkling and eyes squinting.   
  
“I said, _you’re not_.”   
  
“You said you worked here.”   
  
“I did.” He stood straight but crossed his arms.   
  
She looked at the ceiling, then the dog, then him again, brows lifting with a drawled assumption, “and you’re not going to call the cops.”   
  
He said nothing. 

“So…”  
  
“So.”   
  
“...can… you…”   
  
She finally came from the shadows of the cabinet and the wall, exposing her tanned skin and the long neck she had. Skin smooth but dirty. Dusty. Like she’d hit the ground. Or had been cleaning. Working. 

She lifted the dog in her arms toward him. Its black eyes peeked white in the corners as it looked up at him with some sort of guilt before licking its own nose. She wobbled the dog in the air.   
  
But he didn’t move.   
  
“Can you help us?”   
  
He nearly cursed, looking away. 

Of course. 

Of course, this was it. His choices always had a way of reiterating themselves every time he started to doubt himself or started down a different direction. Like fate, or… destiny, karma—whatever the fuck it was—had plans it didn’t like him straying from. 

And of course. Of course, he’d say—  
  
“With what?”   
  
“He ate chocolate.”

He sighed and reached out.   
  
“How much?” He asks as she places the corgi in his arms. It’s a sturdy dog, and young, he can already tell. Not overweight either just… round.   
  
“I’m not sure, I had chocolate candies on my coffee table—”   
  
“—Always a great decision with a dog.”   
  
She ignored his comment but glared as she continued, “and I didn’t see how much of it he got through.”   
  
“How much was left?”   
  
She just scrunched her nose again.   
  
“Milk chocolate?”   
  
“Regular?”   
  
He looked at her funny but said nothing, putting the animal on the metal table and stepping back to grab some gloves from the tray underneath. She came close then, staring at him with intensity as he snapped his fingers in. He looked back at her, undaunted. 

She was pretty. 

You know, short… and dusty, with messy hair and an angry brow. But... pretty. 

He felt his ears get really hot but ignored it to grasp the corgi’s muzzle. He pried the dog’s jaw open to check his teeth, seeing only a few traces of the dreaded candy in his teeth but little else. “Did he eat any of the wrappers? Foil, plastic—”  
  
“No, no—it was uh, a box of chocolate. You know those hearts? For Valentine’s day—”   
  
“Valentine’s day,” he repeated, letting go of the day on rubbing its ears with reassurance. He peered at the collar. “Happy Valentine's day to you, uh...B..? BB?”   
  
“Beebee-ate.” She pronounced the word on the tags like it was an actual name.   
  
“What’s that?”   
  
“His name.”   
  
“Right.” He eyed her again but said nothing. She crossed her arms and looked at the floor.   
  
“Will he be okay?”   
  
“ _She,”_ He corrected finally. “Will be okay. It takes a lot more than milk chocolate to do damage. And it looks like from her teeth that she already vomited. So you have that to look forward to when you get home.”   
  
“Really?”   
  
“Yeah, I can smell it on her breath.”   
  
“No I mean—a girl? Are you sure?”   
  
“I didn’t get fired for being incompetent.” 

“You were fired?”  
  
He swallowed, pursing his lips and ripping his gaze from her to collect drugs from the shelves across the room. “I’m gonna give you a laxative to give her. So she can pass the stuff that didn’t come back up. She’s gonna seem lethargic and sick because chocolate kinda makes dogs high. But she’s fine.”   
  
The girl had taken his spot, massaging the corgi’s face and ears with a worried look.   
  
“Really.” He said, stopping across and catching her gaze. “She’s gonna be okay.”

She nodded, smiling in a secret way back down at the pet before going quiet.  
  
“Why were you fired?” She asked softly,   
  
“It’s not really your business, _thief_ —”   
  
“Hey!”   
  
“—but I had a habit of giving out prescriptions and treating animals that didn’t have any money or insurance.” He continued, sliding the laxatives over pointedly.   
  
“Oh.”   
  
“Yeah.” He stared down at her guilt as he pulled off his gloves.   
  
“Sorry.” She mumbled.   
  
He ignored it, swallowing and feeling his ears burn again. “Just uh, make sure she drinks lots of water. And has wet food maybe—what do you feed her?”   
  
“Colto.”   
  
“Wow.” He huffed. Expensive stuff. Really expensive. Prescription based.

Weird.

Weird for a girl who couldn’t afford a vet appointment or insurance or—  
  
Her hand was covering her face, that telling nose scrunch peering through her fingers.   
  
Something clicked.   
  
“How’d you know about this place?”   
  
“Hm?” she answered, really loudly, staring pointedly at nothing.   
  
“I said how’d you know about this place? Why us; you live close?”   
  
She looked around a bit before nodding. “I’ve been here before.”   
  
“Uh-huh.” He trailed. Broken in before she meant. Probably had been for however long she had the stolen dog. It would be easy with the window if that’s how she got in this time. And without mud and a dog to carry she could probably break-in, steal food, and leave without them knowing. And they wouldn’t notice either with how little of the expensive shit they sold. Great.   
  
“Maybe I can blame my break-in on you then.”   
  
“No—I, wait—”   
  
“It’s a joke.” He shook his head. “But you might as well stock up on your way out.”   
  
Her eyes widened. 

He didn’t ask her if the dog really was stolen. Nor did he ask her how much food she intended to take. She didn’t ask him about the drugs he pilled in his backpack, or the paperwork and tools he piled into his car.   
  
He made sure to clean up most of the mud while she picked out a leash, some treats, and some toys from their storage closet. She waited while he put the birds back to sleep and turned the lights out.  
  
He helped her back through the window so she avoided the cameras, and drove around the back to pick her up.   
  
“Can I call you if she gets any worse?”   
  
He looked over at, BB-8 now panting happily and flicking her ears at all the sights out the passenger window.

The girl was looking at him with that intensity again.   
  
He swallowed.   
  
“Yeah, I mean, yeah. Sure.”   
  
She pulled out a phone and he recited his number.   
  
“Doctor...?”   
  
“Not anymore.” He deadpanned.   
  
“No, what’s your name?” She asked more directly.   
  
He swallowed again, his hands sweating on the steering wheel. “Ben.”   
  
“Thanks.” He listened to her tap in the contact.   
  
After a few seconds of silence, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.   
  
“Sent you a text.”   
  
“Right.”   
  
This was not at all how he imagined his night would go. Not even in the slightest. Again with the karma, or fate, or whatever it was that wanted to prove to him that maybe all this. Quitting, getting fired. Maybe it was a good thing. Maybe it was good to do good-bad things. 

“I still can’t believe it, I’ve been saying ‘he’ all week.”  
  
He looked over and felt his lips twitch.   
  
“I’m sure she doesn’t mind.”   
  
“I dunno, she did put up a fuss every time I told her she was such a handsome, good boy!” She laughed.   
  
Ben felt his insides flip.   
  
“I’m sure you’ll still get the chance to say that again someday.” He said, meaning another dog. One that wasn’t stolen but properly adopted. Especially when BB8's owners eventually showed up.   
  
She was looking at him funny though, with high brows and parted lips. 

He drove through the directions she’d given him and ended up at a quaint apartment complex. He got out to help her with the dog food but didn’t seem to need to. She carried it over one shoulder and BB-8 wiggled excitedly on her new leash. 

“Thanks again, for everything. And sorry again, for busting into your building.”  
  
“Not mine anymore, just my dad’s.”   
  
“Huh.”

He cursed in his head for talking too much. He wasn’t really sure what the protocol was for having a girls number. For having a pretty girl’s number. Neither had happened before. But maybe he should just treat her like a patient.  
  
“Tell your boyfriend he has to buy you another box of candy for Valentine's.”  
  
Her face froze.  
  
Real smooth. Great. It even sounded mean. Ben grit his teeth together.   
  
“I bought it for myself.”   
_  
_ _Oh._   
  
They stared at each other.   
  
He wanted to ask her why she was covered in dust. He wanted to ask her if she worked nearby. If she liked coffee. If she broke into any more places or just his. How long she’d been breaking in. If she’d broken in when he’d been there as if they’d somehow been cohabitating until now and didn’t even seem to know it.  
  
How a girl like girl could just be around, that closely, and he not know it.   
  
It wasn’t until BB-8 sneezed and pulled at the lead that Ben shoved his hands in his pockets and rounded his car. “Okay, great—have a good night—”   
  
“Thank again! Sorry, you got fired!”   
  
“Right, thanks.”   
  
They waved, both trying hard not to look at each other directly as she walked to the complex and he got in his car.   
  
He watched her go through. He watched her in his side mirror as she turned a corner with her corgi and left.   
  
Then he ripped out his phone to check his messages.

> 2:04 a.m.   
> | this is rey your thief 

_Rey._

He let go of a breath he’d held for he didn’t know how long, clutching the phone as he pulled out of the apartment and started his way home.   
  
_“Good boy._ ” he said to himself sometime later and cringed, realizing way, way too fucking late what it had sounded like he’d said and she’d looked at him with that expression—“Oh fuck—! God dammit!” 

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know nothing about vets!


End file.
